


You Were Sent To Me.

by optimistictheory



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-12 11:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimistictheory/pseuds/optimistictheory
Summary: Kalina is this years only Amity transfer. A dark past puts her on the road to Dauntless. Unintentionally she catches the eye of Eric. Will he stand in the way of her self-percieved destiny, or will he be the one to offer her another path?





	1. Beginning of the End

The day of the Choosing Ceremony is suppose to be a happy day full of excitement in any eighteen year old’s life. The most crucial time in their young lives; choosing where their entire future will be, until death or exile. For most people, it’s until death.

On this particular date the sky is pure blue, riddled with lily-white clouds. A warm breeze ruffles through the many trees in Amity. It’s a flawless late summer’s day, perfect for changing one's life forever.

Kalina sits in front of the mirror in her small bedroom, light streaming in through the open window. She can hear the buzz of life that surrounds her, the life that will keep on going long after she’s gone. 

Behind her stands her father, running a brush through her long black hair, trying to tame the curls and twists the best he can. It helps that she just bathed. The dampness keeps the unruly locks under control. He tries not to pull too hard, but Kalina is used to the pain and doesn’t so much as flinch when the brush snags on a knot every now and then. 

“Are you excited?” he asks, catching her eye in the mirror. A small smile tugs at his mouth before he returns his focus to the task of dividing her hair into four sections.

The young woman folds her hands on her lap and stares passively at her reflection. “I guess.”

Kalina already knows what Faction she will choose. It brings a pang of hurt to her chest that it is not going to be her home faction, that she will have to leave her parents and her brothers behind for a new life, however hard it will be. She hopes to at least visit them from time to time, but leaves little room for that actual hope to take root. The moment she drops her blood into one of the five bowls at the ceremony, her life will be turned on its head. It will be harder than she can imagine right now. It will require all of her will, her strength, her dedication to get her where she wants to go.

Her father doesn’t comment on her bleak response. He makes a noise of acknowledgement, and begins braiding her hair. 

She watches him work in the mirror. Under normal circumstances her mother would be the one fiddling with her hair and her clothes, fawning over her and tearing up over her baby’s big day. But these are not normal circumstances. Her mother is currently sitting on the bed in the master bedroom, presumably rocking back and forth or counting the planks on the ceiling.

She is in no condition to take care of anyone, not anymore. It’s a heavy burden on Kalina’s father, but he has handled it to the best of his ability. Her brothers don’t understand it all that well, not like Kalina does, and they miss their mother and her carefree Amity-personality. But they do everything they can to not trouble their father. They behave in school, work hard for good grades, and do every chore asked of them, sometimes before it is asked. They are good boys, twins, still in the vestiges of childhood, and she will miss them terribly.

Her mother, Daisy, had not always been that way. Up until two years ago she was the best mother in the world to Kalina and her brothers, a loving, caring wife to Damir, and a diligent, dedicated worker in the fields of Amity. Easy to smile and always graceful, she had been a treasure to their community. But it all changed on that one horrible afternoon, and none of them had been the same since.

Now her mother was left broken and ruined, a shadow of her former self, and none of them knew what to do other than try to accommodate her. Daily and frequent doses of the Peace serum held her mostly calm and complacent, fits of terror and panic not nearly as many as there used to be. She even had periods of lucidity, when she would smile and make eye contact, and Kalina could see the woman she used to be under the shine of fear and brokenness. 

Just as her father finishes the four stranded braid with a red elastic, a bump and a whimper can be heard through the thin walls, muffled. Her father catches her eye in the mirror again, and she nods to him, watching as he kisses the top of her head and hurries to his own bedroom. 

Kalina listens to his quiet voice calming her mother before she moves to stand, putting away the stool once more. She stands in front of the mirror again, smoothing down the front of her bright orange summer dress, the fabric tight across her chest and loose and flowy around her legs. She takes in every aspect of her image, from the raven black locks to her red-painted toenails, and decides that she is ready. The bus will be leaving soon, and she has to say goodbye to her family, as none of them are coming with her. 

Suddenly she is afraid, but the feeling is dulled and far away. She hopes that her mother can handle her leaving. Then she wonders if she will even notice, and melancholy stings her eyes before she can temper the feeling. Kalina blinks rapidly to get rid of the moisture, taking deep breaths as she clenches her hands at her sides. 

“Enough,” she whispers to herself, glaring at her mirror image. It is not something she allows herself often: to feel too much. It’s going to be dangerous where she’s going, and the less weakness she can show, the better.

She does not pick up the red cardigan that her father had chosen for her, leaving it on the bed as she moves out the door. 

Kalina stops by her parents bedroom and sees her mother standing at the window, gently swaying from side to side. She can hear faint humming. 

“Mama?” she says softly. Daisy turns at the sound of her voice, and for a few tense seconds Kalina thinks she isn’t going to recognize her at all. Then she smiles, a sad but welcome thing, and she stretches her arms out towards her daughter.

“My baby,” she calls, and Kalina goes to her quickly, wanting to take advantage of this moment before she leaves.

“I love you, Mama,” she whispers into blond hair and inhales slowly. That smell of apples and green tea fill her lungs, and there is that pesky feeling again. She stomps it down as her mother folds her arms delicately around her taller form.

“Oh honey, I love you too,” she says, patting Kalina’s long braid, “So much.”

Her mother’s arms grow tighter around her, but Kalina is not alarmed until she hears Daisy whisper frantically in her ear.

“Run, Kalina, you have to run and hide, they’re coming. Run and don’t look back.”

Immediately she breaks the embrace and holds her mother at arms length, taking in the suddenly frantic look on her face.

“Mama?” she shakes her lightly. “Mama, it’s me, it’s Kalina. You’re home and safe. No one is coming.”

Daisy calms at her words and looks at her like it’s the first time she sees her. She smiles again and strokes her cheek. “My baby.”

Kalina tightens her jaw and smiles briefly, though it feels weird on her face, and she quickly lets it fall. “I have to go now, Mama. I love you.” She leans in and plants a soft kiss on her forehead. Before her mother can say anything more Kalina leaves the room and makes her way downstairs.

She sees her father and brothers waiting at the entrance to their home. She hugs her last whole parent tightly and kisses his cheek, murmuring her goodbye in his ear and he holds her close before letting go. Kalina turns to the twins and hugs them to her individually, kissing their honey-blond heads one at a time, telling them to be good and that she will see them soon. She hates lying in front of her dad, but she does it anyway. Niko and Brice each hold out their hands to her before she can leave.

“Here, surată,” they say in uncanny unison, and press their parting gifts into her palm. Two bracelets lay in her hand, one braided in red-strained leather, the other in black, with a single wooden bead of the opposite color on each. 

“Did you make these?” she asks them with a small smile, thumbing the soft leather between her finger as she admires their craftsmanship.

They nod their head enthusiastically, both grinning widely, “In school. For you to remember us by.”

She smiles at them, “I could never forget you.” Kalina slips the bracelets on her wrists, one on each, and draws the boys to her, hugging them once more, “Thank you, mica maimute.”

They hug her tight around the waist, reluctant to let go,

She had told them, and only them, which faction she intended on choosing, trusting them with this. They might be young, but they were not stupid. They would tell their father only long after she had left, and maybe she would see them on visiting day. 

There was nothing dearer to Kalina than her family, and she feels that sadness take hold in her chest once more as she says her last goodbye, watching tears form in her father’s eyes, and a few falling from her brothers’. 

After, when she is already on the bus and it’s heading for the Hub, Kalina breathes deep and shoves the bitter sorrow down, deep down along with the fear and fury. Instead she lets her anger simmer on the surface, a slight frown creasing her forehead as she stares at the green and fertile landscape they pass, ignoring all the young folks chattering and laughing around her. 

\--

The Hub is overrun with people. It is, after all, an important day. Every eighteen year old is here, and many of them accompanied by their parents, and people with positions like educator, security guard, or Faction hierarchy. The building is teeming with life. It’s hard to distinguish one person from the other; the factional colors blur together in a mosaic of lives.

Kalina makes her way into the tower with the dark glass, briefly looking up and feeling dizzy at the height of it. She sticks to the back of a group of other Amity teens, walking on sure feet and not letting herself get pushed around by the crowd. She joins the qeue for the elevators; the fitter folks take the stairs.

Throngs of people from every faction fill the corridors and the ceremony hall, slowly finding their places on rows of old, beat-up folding seats. Kalina manages to get a seat in the second row of Amity’s section, on the aisle. She sits quietly and clasps her hands in her lap, silently watching everyone milling around her, talking in excited voices. In some ways it stings that she cannot partake in their jovial attitude, that she cannot be just another young adult choosing their blessed future in their _glorious_ society. 

She gazes around the room, at the five ceremonial bowls that represent their factions, at the black-clad individuals on the stage, letting the noise, the atmosphere, and her surroundings flow in through her senses, breathing deep and steady. 

She can’t wait for it to be over.

At last, when every single person has found a seat, a dark-skinned man dressed in blak steps to the front of the platform and addresses the crowd. This year it’s Dauntless’s turn to host the Choosing Ceremony, and she assumes that the man is one of their leaders; perhaps he is the eldest too. Next year it will be Abnegation, but Kalina does not dwell on the fact that she might not be there to see it.

The man has a neatly trimmed beard and two columns of black squares tattooed on his throat. He introduces himself as Max and launches into a speech about the faction system and how they have the right to choose their own destiny. Kalina blocks out his words. She doesn’t care what he has to say. She already knows everything she needs to. Instead she focuses on her breathing, counting the seconds on each inhale and exhale, sharpening her mind. 

“Kalina Novakovic.”

Her dress wisps around her bare legs as she strides to the front. The room is quiet, the only noise being the soughing of fabric. A knife lays on the table; a sharp, triangular blade. Kalina grabs it without hesitation and makes a small cut in the meat of her palm. Ruby red springs forth, and for a second she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

Everything is about to change.

Kalina extends her arm and lets the blood drip into the bowl with the flame, down onto hot coals. By the time the vapour is gone she has already turned away, heading straight for the cheering, rowdy crowd of black-clad individuals. 

“Dauntless,” Max calls over the cheers.

A few of the Dauntless greet her and pat her shoulder, one offering up their seat at the front and she sits, giving them a tight lipped smile that she doesn’t really mean. She is not there to make friends, but a few might come in handy.


	2. Chapter 2

Kalina scratches up her limbs when she jumps from the train; the rough tarmac on the roof top ripping into her bare arms and legs, but she bites back the pain and brushes off the small rocks that stick to her skin. 

Her dress now has a dozen tiny holes and ruffed up patches, but it’ll hold together. She joins the rest of the initiates on the opposite side of the roof, curiously watching the few Dauntless soldiers ahead of them, standing by the edge of the roof. They look older, and must be some of their teachers, or instructors. Maybe they are the welcome committee, although Kalina scoffs at the thought.

One man is balanced confidently on the low wall before the long drop, speaking over the crowd once they assemble. 

“Alright, listen up!” he raises his voice to carry over the wind, steady and strong, and this time Kalina pays close attention. From here on out she has to be the best she can be, learn all that they have to offer.

“I’m Eric,” he says, looking over them with little interest. 

Kalina watches him closely. He’s well-built, broad shoulders and tall frame. Strong arms with defined muscle flex on instinct, set off by the sleeveless black vest he wears. Dark ink decorates his forearms in labyrinthine patterns. His throat bears the same tattooed pattern as Max, four rows instead of two, his right brow is pierced in two places, and his ears are pierced with plain black gauges, stretching his earlobes. His dirty-blond hair is shaved at the sides, long and slicked back on top. 

Kalina finds him utterly gorgeous; angled jaw and straight nose, severe blue-grey eyes that capture the crowd. She listens closely to his words as he exudes power and confidence, and she hopes that he’s part of her training.

“I’m one of your leaders here at Dauntless,” he continues, hands clasped in front of him. He turns slightly and gestures to the brick barrier, and subsequent fall, behind him, “And this is the way in.”

A few concerned murmurs travel through the initiates at the prospect of jumping into the unknown.

“If you don’t have the guts to jump,” he says and smirks at the notion, and it’s cold and unkind, “then you don’t belong in Dauntless. So, who’s first?”

The first jumper is a Candor-born young man built like a tank. He’s almost as tall as Eric as he stands on the ledge. His short brown hair shifts in the breeze as he looks over the edge. He throws back a wide grin at the other initiates, before he launches himself off the wall with a flip and a shout of excitement, one that echoes all the way down.

“Next!”

One after the other they make the jump until it’s her turn. Kalina walks to the front and crawls cautiously onto the ledge. She makes the mistake of looking down before she’s standing, and the dizziness that overtakes her almost makes her lose balance. 

“Woah there, Amity,” Eric comments but makes no move to steady her. Instead he crosses his arms over his chest and looks her up and down, “Would be a shame to fall to your death _now_.”

Kalina glances back at him with a steely glare. He’s quick to return it and for a second he looks like he wants to reprimand her, but she leaps before he can get the chance. The hole in the roof of the next building rushes up to meet her and she plunges through it, into perfect darkness.

She hits the net with a surprised grunt and tries not to move too much as it settles, staring up at the bright blue sky before breathing deep once more. She’s always hated heights.

A sudden pull of the mesh makes her tumble to the edge, but a strong hand reaches out to stop her before she falls over. 

She turns her head and blinks at the man that the hand belongs to. Ruggedly handsome, five-o'clock shadow, full lips, dark eyes and matching hair, eyebrows furrowed as she continues to gaze dully at him.

Without a word he helps her down, lifting her like she weighs nothing, and setting her on her own two feet.

“Name?” he asks, then adds, “and make it a good one.” He glares at a sheepish looking initiate, and Kalina gets the impression that he’d chosen wrongly.

“It’s-” she coughs; she has to clear her throat. She’s not spoken since before she left home, which was hours ago. Her mouth is dry, but the man is looking expectantly at her, so she powers through, “It’s Kalina.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Alright then.”

He shouts her name to the surrounding group and she walks to join them. The first jumper grins at her and it’s all teeth. She gives him a small smile back to be polite. 

Once every single initiate has made the jump, the man, introduced as Four, separates the Dauntless-borns from the transfers. The first go with the other instructor, Lauren, and the transfers follow Four through the tunnels and walkways of the compound. 

The Pit is magnificent in size. It looks like it’s built of blocks; blocks cut directly out of the marble rock face. There’s several hundred feet to the glass ceiling, sunlight lazily streaming through. It’s full of people, and as Four explains, it’s the heart of Dauntless.

Kalina follows the group, distracted by her new surroundings. She finds the place beautiful and raw and deadly; the narrow stone-carved paths and metal walkways stretch over open crevices, while the natural light casts the adjoining tunnels in shadows.

They follow Four until they eventually reach the dormitory that they will be sharing for the next ten weeks. Catcalls and wolf whistles go through the crowd when they find out it’s unisex, the showers and toilets out in the open with not as much as a curtain for propriety. Four leaves them to change, and every initiate choses a bed for themselves.

Kalina sits down on the one she’s chosen, with the standard-issue black training clothes in a pile next to her. Nimble fingers move to take off her sandals as she tries to ignore everyone else. 

“Hey Amity,” someone addresses her, and she looks up to see the first jumper sitting on the bed across from her. He grins at her, and she gets the impression that he does that a lot. “Nice scar.”

Kalina lifts a self-conscious hand to her right cheek, feeling the smooth edges of the scar marring her skin as it runs straight under her eye. A small thing, it’s still somewhat notable, although it’s faded to a fleshy white over the years. She’s surprised he’s even noticed it.

“Thanks?” she lifts a brow at him in confusion.

He just grins at her and sticks out his hand, “I’m Dominic, but you can call me Dom.” He winks at her and she has to smile, this one feeling a bit more genuine.

“Kalina,” she says as she shakes his big paw firmly. 

He stands to take off his pants and she graciously averts her eyes, “So why’d you choose Dauntless? Ain’t it a long way from home?”

Kalina is thankful that she’s wearing a sports-bra under her dress. She pulls the orange fabric over her head, ignoring the catcall from across the room as she shimmies into the tight black leggings. She zips them up before answering, “The test told me to.”

It’s a lie and it slips easily off her tongue. Dom doesn’t seem to notice. He looks up and smiles, “Yeah, mine too.”

\--

The mess hall is crowded and noisy, two things Kalina usually avoids when seeking social interaction. She feels smothered and uncomfortable amongst packs of people, largely unable to filter all their words and think her own thoughts. She adapts however, straightens her spine, and follows in Dom’s wake as he splits the crowd. She did not, had not, planned on making many acquaintances. But a friend or two might come in handy in the long run, so she doesn’t refuse when he gestures for her to take the seat next to him. 

“You don’t seem very Amity to me, you know,” Dom comments as he’s forking meat patties and vegetables onto his plate. 

Kalina shrugs her shoulders. He’s probably right.

“What makes you say that?” she asks, piercing a green bean with her fork before popping it into her mouth. She sends him a curious look.

Dom thinks about her question before he answers, pausing to study her mannerisms and face, “You don’t smile much, your eyes are cold, and your body language is very tense. As I said, not very peace-loving, mellow Amity.”

Kalina is reminded of Dom’s origin faction in an instant. Candor is known for weeding out the truth, teaching their members to detect lies from a young age; the reading of body language, micro-expressions, word-choice, and tics that might seem natural to others. She will have to be careful around him.

“Huh,” she grunts, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of chicken breast, “You really thought it through.”

Dom grins at her, “Nah. Candor, remember? Anyway, it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

Kalina looks at him and tips her head to the side, curiosity in her eyes. He lightly bumps his shoulder against hers in a show of companionship.

“We’re Dauntless now.”

They make idle small talk - which consists mostly of Dominic telling Kalina about his family, interests and life-goals, and her giving few but mostly honest words in response - until the crowd goes crazy around them. Every Dauntless member proceeds to bang their metal mugs on the tables, creating a deafening ruckus. Kalina follows their turned gazes to an overhanging platform. On it stands a handful of people, who she assumes is the Dauntless leadership; Max and Eric are among them.

“Initiates! Stand!” Max commands as the noise dies down.

Kalina exchanges looks with Dom before they both stand to join their fellow initiates. Max proceeds to talk about bravery, strength, and the importance of faction before blood. Kalina scoffs internally at the thought, subtly rolling her eyes. She tunes out his words; she didn’t come here for a morality check or pretty words about bravery and honor.

She squeeks as strong hands of the crowd around her suddenly seize her shoulders, waist and knees, lifting her up over their heads. At first she struggles to get down, a panic she can’t control at being touched without giving permission rising up in her throat, until she looks to the side and sees all her fellow initiates being thrust upwards in the same way. So she relaxes the best she can and leans back. If she closes her eyes it almost feels like floating. 

Almost.

 

\--

The next morning all fifteen transfer initiate stand in the Pit, bleary eyed and yawning. It’s 7am. 

Four is explaining the stages of training, and Kalina pays close attention to his words. 

“—And you’ll master the methods of combat—,” Four continues as he paces in front of the group, tense and serious. Behind him Eric sits on a square block of whatever kind of white stone the Pit is made of, watching their faces with indifference and mild annoyance, like it’s a bother for him to be there. 

Eric stands as Four finishes talking, “The rankings will also determine who gets cut.” He stares down anyone daring to look him in the eye, “At the end of stage one, the four lowest ranking initiates will be leaving us.”

A small, thin girl with long platinum blonde hair speaks up, voice quivering, “Leaving?” 

Eric smiles and it’s not at all kind. He moves to stand directly in front of her, steely grey eyes bearing down on her and she shrinks into herself, “Yes, sweetheart, _leaving_.”

“To go where?”

“The factionless, idiot,” someone whispers from the back.

“Oh.”

\-- 

The training hall is a vast, old warehouse, set up with gym equipment, fight rings and target practice areas. After breakfast the initiates make their way there, and Four quickly has them running laps for warm-up. A warm-up that lasts two hours. For many it’s a long time to keep moving, and half the initiates struggle to breathe. 

Kalina is used to hard labor. Working in the fields in Amity is simple but tough work, and over the years her cardio has improved naturally. If she adds the last year that she has been training her body, then she is in better physical condition than most of the other transfers. While Dom kept up with her at first, his strengths do not lie in endurance, and he curses her good-heartedly as she speeds ahead of him on every lap. 

But at the end of the two hours Kalina is still shaking. Tremors of fatigue makes her knees feel weak, beads of sweat trickling down her neck and between her breasts and shoulder blades. She’d ditched the t-shirt an hour ago, opting to train in the tight-fitting sports-bra as it gave some much needed ventilation.

“Alright, everybody take five!” Four shouts and it echoes in the wide space. Every initiate groans in relief. 

Kalina sits on a bench, a water bottle in her hands, as Dom drags his tired ass over to her, collapsing on the floor at her feet.

“Oh god, I’m gonna die,” he moans, forearm thrown over his eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly in time with his breathing.

“Breathe in through your nose, Dom,” she nudges him with her foot to gain his attention, then tosses him the water bottle. He nods his thanks before spilling half the contents trying to drink from it while lying down. “Sit up, you idiot.”

Dom groans, “Too. Much. Effort.” He hands her back the bottle as his breathing improves. 

A high pitched whistle from across the way demands their attention. The group is forming a circle around one of the large square mats, Four and another member of Dauntless in the middle. Kalina and Dom limp over to join the group, Kalina patting her new friend on the shoulder in sympathy as he whines about his tired muscles.

“Everybody watch carefully. You _will_ be ranked on how well you learn to execute basic and advanced combat moves, so take note,” Four looks sternly upon the initiates and Kalina wonders if he ever smiles. In fact, none of their instructors are anythng like cheerful, at all. Maybe that’s a bad omen.

They watch him and the other Dauntless man, Jackson with the very blue hair, go through the very basics of defensive techniques to get them started. Kalina pushes to the front so she can carefully watch every move executed, taking meticulous notes in her head on movements and positioning.

Then they are sent out to practice in pairs and solo with the punch dummies. Dom drags her to a unoccupied mat and they go through the moves, taking turns to attack and defend.

Kalina throws a punch at Dom, who moves to parry it the way they just learned. It goes like this for a while, until he grins and jumps from foot to foot, shaking his head from side to side with a, “Come on! Hit me harder! I can take it!”

Kalina cocks her head at him, flexing her fists, debating with herself whether to acquiesce to his request or not. So far he’s parried and dodged her attacks, but she has been pulling her punches for the sake of learning. “Are you sure? I’d rather not injure you on the first day of training,” she says, a small smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. 

Dominic scoffs and steps up to her, looking down on her with a challenging stare. He’s still half a head taller than her, and very much out of her weight class. “Bring it on, squirt.”

Kalina holds up her hands in defeat and he dances a few steps back, before he throws up his arms in the basic defense position. She throws a few punches and kicks his way, testing his reflexes and durability, and he holds up fine, which is evident in the way he laughs at her.

“Come _on_ , Kally! I barely felt that!” he taunts, “Unless that’s _all you've got_.” 

She is quickly growing weary of his heckling. Before he can think on it, she kicks out her leg, aiming for his shoulder. As she predicts he throws up his arms and parries the blow in the way they were shown, but he does not see the fist she reels back and hurls at his face.

It connects with a heavy thud, right on his jawbone, and she watches as his head snaps back almost in slow motion. It’s clear that he did not expect the punch and when he stumbles back, she doesn’t pursue. 

Dom shakes his head, and struggles to gain his footing. He manages in the end, and opens and closes his mouth a few times, rubbing his jaw.

“Ow.”

Kalina tries to temper the self-satisfied smirk that twists her mouth. She doesn’t quite succeed.

\--

 

“This year’s recruits are not half bad.”

Eric is standing in the shadows of the training hall, arms crossed and a familiar scowl on his face, watching the initiates go through the basic methods in hand-to-hand like a troop of baboons. Only baboons have better hand-eye coordination.

He glances back at the approaching presence behind him. He nods at the man dressed in a black wifebeater, showing off thin but wiry arms. Black and white dreadlocks gathered on the back of his head, and a tattoo of an eagle spreading its wings across his throat. 

“Maybe according to your half-ass standards,” Eric sneers as Nathan comes to stand beside him, “I’ve seen longhaired, peace-serum-tripping, Amity flower-children hit harder than these pussies.”

Nathan snorts a laugh before jostling his shoulder against Eric’s. He nods towards a pair of initiates practicing, “Speaking of the devil, seen the only Amity transfer this year?”

Of course Eric had seen her. He could remember when she almost fell off the roof, then glared at _dim_ as if _he_ had pushed her. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Is she fighting the first jumper? That kid is a mountain,” Nathan whistles, watching as the Amity girl throws punches that don’t even make the kid flinch, “Man, she is not gonna last long, huh?”

Eric smirks and shakes his head in agreement. That is, until the teenage tank seems to goad the smaller girl. 

Tank puts up his arms, but it doesn’t help him much as the girl is suddenly a blur of black cloth and pale skin. She kicks up, a sliding side kick that serves as a distraction, and the tank easily blocks it. She follows the move with a solid punch to his jaw, sending him reeling.

“Holy shit,” Nathan mutters as the sound echoes across the room, the kid stumbling back from the hit. 

Eric's too busy processing what he's seen. Her technique is sloppy, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with pure power. 

Shit. Now he's curious

“Well, whaddaya know.”

**Author's Note:**

> First fic on here. This has been floating around my head for a few years now. Wrote most of the beginning years ago, and only recently came back to it, now that I have the time! I hope you enjoyed reading. I've taken several liberties with the universe to fit around the story, so if you spot anything different from the book or movie then that's why. 
> 
> Peace :)


End file.
